The Man Who Would Be King
by awesomesauce101
Summary: After obtaining the first blade, Dean finally kills Abaddon and Crowley. But rather than him and Sam finally being at peace, he ends up where he least expected. On the throne of Hell.
1. Chapter 1

**Someone on Tumblr said what if Dean became King of Hell after he killed Abaddon and Crowley with the first blade? And I thought, what a great idea for a fic!**

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They don't talk about it. Not if they can help it. But there's no escaping the knowledge of who's currently seated on the throne downstairs, of who it is that sends demons after them and how they used to be family. There's no erasing the memory of black swallowing up emerald green eyes forever and the burning red Mark on his arm as demonic power coursed through his veins. They don't talk about it, but that doesn't mean they don't think about it looming over them like thunderclouds.

Who knows how Hell is being run these days. It's certainly not anything close to Crowley's old reign, waiting in lines for eternity. But all they know is that demons beg not to be sent back. Most would rather be killed than exorcised. The fear that they hadn't realized demons could feel is what keeps him up at night.

Nightmares are common place these days. He wakes up shouting for someone who has been by his side his whole life and now will never be there again. The presence is filled by an angel, but ironically, it's not soothing at all, only a grim reminder of what they've lost.

There's not a single hunter who doesn't know. And there's not a single hunter who is willing to help in their crazy quest to bring him back to them. They know well enough not to ask anymore.

They see him again a year later. No time on earth, but perhaps an eternity in the pit. The black is gone from his eyes now, but the Mark is still there, pulsing in time with a heartbeat he shouldn't have. The King of Hell smiles at them and it is both strange and familiar.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you again, Sam? Castiel?"

"Dean,"

Sam says the name like a whispered prayer, though no one is listening. His brother looks back at him. Cold. Calculating. There's barely a hint of recognition and a lifetime's worth of loathing in his dead green eyes. He knows that the man, the demon, staring back at him isn't Dean. Not anymore. Hasn't been for a year. He knows there's no use trying to get through to him, to where he's shrouded in darkness and pain so deep inside his blackened soul. But that doesn't mean he doesn't try.

"Just let it go," Sam says.

Dean doesn't loosen his grip on the blade in his hand. It's like a lifeline to him, the only link that sustains the dark energy permeating his being. He hasn't seen him since the day he took over, but the demons he's met tell terrifying stories where their king is covered in the remains of tattered human souls, the blade like an extension of himself. Sam tells himself that if he can only get the blade away from him, that his brother will return. He knows that such a feat is nearly impossible and there's no guarntee it will work. But he's a Winchester, and once he's got a hold of something, there's no letting it go.

"I don't think so," Dean replies, twirling the first blade in his fingers.

"Please, Dean. I know you're in there,"

"I am Dean. And if you don't like it, then that's your problem. Not mine,"

"You're not him. You're just a demon. And I'm going to save him whether you're in my way or not,"

"Have at it then,"

Dean spreads his arms, welcoming an attack and knowing full well that Sam won't go through with it. Sam doesn't move. He smiles and it's all wrong and not Dean at all.

"I told you. I am Dean. There's nothing to save, Sammy,"

"You're wrong," he says, hiding the way his voice quivers.

"Idiot," Dean says. It's almost the same way he used to say it when Sam would complain about the music in the Impala. "Don't you get it? I don't _want_ to be saved. I'm having a hell of a time ruling Hell," he laughs. "All those demons, powerless. Weak. I can get rid of them like that,"

He snaps a finger and one of the demons accompanying him drops dead. The other three exchange fearful glances and it's the first time Sam has felt bad for a demon. He can tell that they want to run or smoke out, but they know better than that. One glance from their king has them shrinking backwards, bowing their heads and staring at the ground like it's the most fascinating thing ever created.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Why not?" Dean shrugs. "Because I can? Because I finally have enough power to get rid of all these bastards once and for all?"

"Then why don't you?"

"What?"

"If they're so bad then why don't you kill them?"

"They're useful, I guess. At least, some of them are. The others," he looks backwards again, "not so much,"

Another snap. Another dead demon. Sam watches, wondering where he went wrong, why he isn't strong enough to stop this, why he ever let it get this far in the first place. The Mark of Cain burns brighter and Castiel, who has been watching with a silent, chilled look, directs his eyes towards it. Even with his Grace back, he is no match for the King of Hell. Sam had asked before, when this all started, if worse came to worse, would he be able to smite Dean. Cas had said he had nowhere near that amount of power, that only the archangels did. What he didn't say is that he'd never do that anyway, even if Dean were about to strike him down with an angel blade. But he didn't have to. Sam already knows.

"What's the matter, Castiel? Cat got your tongue?" Dean asks.

Cas remains silent just as before. Sam feels the need to step between his brother and the angel when the former takes a step forward.

"Course," Dean chuckles, "You probably don't know what that means,"

He's closer now and Sam slides Ruby's demon killing knife out of his belt, stepping between his brother and Cas. Dean merely raises an eyebrow. He flicks his hand and moves Sam out of the way, keeping him immobile and helpless. He lifts Cas' chin with the tip of the first blade, forcing the angel to look him in the eye.

"Come on, Cas. Say something already," he coaxes. "I'm getting bored listening to myself talk,"

"Just leave him alone," Sam snaps.

His brother sighs and pinches his thumb and forefinger together, mimicking pulling a zipper closed. Sam's voice is gone and Dean smiles.

"Always wanted to do that," he says cheerfully. He turns back to Cas. "So how've you been?"

Cas doesn't break eye contact, but he doesn't speak either. Only glares at Dean with bright blue eyes, burning with righteous anger at the dark shroud settled around the former hunter. The angel can see through Dean's demonic haze and underneath it all is his still beautiful, shining soul, illuminating its tiny corner tucked away deep inside the King of Hell. There has to be a way to free him, to cleanse him somehow. Castiel had once flown into Hell for Dean and he would do it again if he could. But this time Hell burns inside his charge and brining Dean back to the light will not be as easy as before.

"You can't stay silent forever," Dean comments and is met with the same silence. He glares at Cas, getting tired of the angel's games.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised. It's not like you ever listened to me before," he says.

Sam can see the flash of guilt that goes through Castiel's eyes. Don't listen to him, he wants to tell him. He doesn't mean it. Before this had all gone down, Sam knew Dean's feelings for Cas. It was something he'd teased him about constantly until his brother got fed up and threw something at him before storming away and grumbling to himself. But they never told the angel. It remained unsaid for a number of years and now he doesn't know if there's even anything left of Dean to feel that way.

Dean gives Cas one last look of loathing before letting his hand drop back down to his side. He tuts at them, like they're children and smiles.

"You guys are starting to annoy me, you know. You spend all this time tracking me down and now you hardly even talk to me," he says. "And don't pretend you're trying to 'save' me or whatever. I know why you're really here. I'm just another demon to kill right? Another hunt?"

That's not true, Sam tries to say. Not true at all. It's always been about saving you Dean. I'm not going to let you do this to yourself any more. He struggles against his invisible bonds and Dean holds up a finger.

"I'll be with you a minute, Sammy. Cas and I are going to have a little chat. Don't go anywhere," he says.

Dean grabs Cas by the arm, knowing that he can't control an angel like he can a human. Not even one as weak as Castiel. He doesn't take Cas to another room, but he does manhandle him into the grip of the other demons. Before Cas even has a chance to smite them, Dean utters a spell that renders most of Cas' power useless. It visibly drains him and Sam watches the angel slump against the demons holding him.

Cas flinches away when Dean traces his cheek with the blade, pressing hard enough to draw blood. He doesn't know if the first blade can kill him, but with his weakened powers, healing is going to be a problem. He regards him with a fascinated look, like he's wondering why Cas doesn't try to resist. If you only knew, Castiel thinks.

"Hold him steady, would you?" Dean growls to the two remaining demons. They nod their heads wordlessly and tighten their grip, and Castiel can sense the fear radiating off them.

Sam stands by helplessly watching as Dean cuts into the angel he used to love with all his heart. His voice is still gone and his throat hurts from soundless shouts and pleas for him to stop. Cas may be an angel, but he still feels pain and before long, Sam can hear his laboured breathing from across the room. Blood soaks his shirt and his wounds are slow to heal. Sam hopes that angels can't die from blood loss.

"Why aren't you trying to stop me, Cas? I mean, yeah I took away your mojo, but you could at least speak up," Dean mumbles, more to himself than anyone else. But he doesn't relent and continues experimenting with how many different ways you can injure an angel. Eventually, he grows weary of doing all this with no reaction. He wonders if Sam will be more fun to mess with. He doesn't have an angel blade anymore, but he's pretty sure that beheading works on almost everything. He stands up, admiring his handiwork before preparing to finish it.

Don't do this, Dean. Sam cries without a sound. He doesn't want to watch his brother kill his friend, but it's his fault Cas is in this mess. It's his fault for brining him along, for not telling him about the Mark sooner. He owes it to him to give him these last moments.

"Dean, please," Cas finally says. The words stay the executioner's hand, the first blade hovering in the air as Dean stares down at Cas. For the first time, he looks hesitant.

"I know you don't think you deserve to be saved, but you do. More than anyone. More than your brother, more than me,"

"I told you, I can't be saved. And I don't want to be,"

"Don't lie to me, Dean Winchester. I can see inside you and I know that you don't truly believe that,"

"Way to be all creepy, Cas" Dean says, sounding more like his old self.

"I don't care," Cas replies. "I know you and this isn't you. It's Cain and he's controlling you. You're stronger than he is, Dean. I know you are. You need to fight it,"

"There's nothing to fight, Cas," he says. He doesn't sound so confident.

"There is and you know it. Don't let the Mark control you. It is yours to bear and yours to command. Do not let it get the better of you,"

"Cas," Dean starts.

"I have fought my way through the deepest recesses of Hell to raise you from Perdition with your soul as my guiding light. I know how strong you are. I need you to fight this. I need you to come back to me. Please, Dean. I love you and I will not allow your soul to be lost again,"

There's a beat of silence. Sam and Dean's eyes widen at the angel's declaration. The younger can feel his voice return and the bonds holding him vanish. His brother's eyes are shining again, the same brilliant green as a year ago.

"Let him go," Dean instructs.

The demons exchange another glance. They can sense the change in Dean's demeanor and know he's no longer the king they know and fear. But as long as he holds the blade, as long as he still has that power, they obey. They let Castiel go and heal him without instruction. Dean mutters the counterspell and returns Cas' powers to him. Light fills the room briefly as his Grace flows freely beneath the surface of his vessel again.

"Dean?"

Sam approaches his brother cautiously. Dean turns to look at him and the first blade clatters to the floor. The angry red Mark loses its bright intensity, becoming only a scar on Dean's forearm. Castiel grasps Dean's wrist in his, holds his other hand over the Mark of Cain and heals the skin there. It will always be there, with its demonic power lying dormant if Dean should take up the blade again. But now it is only a faint blemish on Dean's arm.

Dean looks down at his arm and then to the blade, proceeding to kick it away from him. Sam picks it up and stares down the two demons, daring them to make a move. They merely smoke out of their vessels and for once Sam allows them to escape, if only to send a message to others that their ruler is gone. It'll keep them busy for a while, with no one next in line for the throne. With them gone, and their vessels just beginning to wake, Sam decides to take them away from here. He's glad that Dean is back, but now that everything is out in the open, he has no place here at the moment. This is between his brother and Castiel. He'll get time later to rejoice and celebrate with Dean.

Castiel doesn't take his hand away from Dean's wrist, harboring an illogical human fear that Dean will disappear if he does. His time as a human has changed his view on a lot of things, though, and the feeling is not so strange anymore. Dean looks at him, a mixture of guilt, self-loathing, gratefulness, and a myriad of other emotions crossing his features. He opens his mouth, presumably to apologize, because that's just what Dean does, and Castiel leans forward and silences him with his own mouth.

Dean freezes against him for a moment and Cas wonders if he's read this all wrong, if he doesn't actually feel the same way. But then he responds, one hand going to his hair and the other resting on the small of his back. Cas reaches up to cup Dean's face and his fingers come away wet. He pulls away, wipes the tears from Dean's face.

"I'm so sorry, Cas," Dean whispers.

"You have nothing to apologize for,"

"I almost killed you!"

"No you didn't. That wasn't you,"

Castiel shakes his head when Dean tries to protest. He pulls Dean into an embrace, clutching him tightly. Dean hugs back, hard enough to hurt if Cas were human.

"It's okay. I forgive you," Cas mumbles into his shoulder. Dean only tightens his grip, shaking and muttering apologies into Cas' coat. They don't let go of each other for a long time.


	2. Chapter 2

_Darkness. All he sees is the darkness swallowing him up. Pain, anger, fear, guilt, and every negative emotion he's ever had crash down upon him. And it's too hot. He feels like his skin is melting and it's worse because the fire is inside. The flames lick at his soul, his broken mind, and no one comes when he calls for help. There's no questioning where he is._

_It's so loud. There are too many people. Too many other souls screaming out in the darkness. He can't hear himself think. He can't do much of anything. He sits on a throne in a great room made with marble walls. He's surrounded by demons and their true faces twist in delight at the sight of their new king. He doesn't want this. He doesn't want to be here. But no matter how much he screams for help, no one comes to his rescue. Not this time. He's alone. All alone in a sea of corruption and sin. _

"Dean!"

_Cas? His ears perk up at the sound of his name. He hasn't heard his angel in what feels like a century. Maybe it's been that long. Who knows down here anyway? Despite the fatigue settled over his being, he reaches out with what little strength he has left. Reaching towards that presence that's become his salvation. _

_Cas is nowhere to be found. No matter how hard he looks, he doesn't see the angel amongst the smoggy mass of demons. He starts to panic. Is he already hallucinating? He tries to call Cas' name but no sound comes out. His eyes widen and he claws at his throat, suddenly feeling like he's suffocating. _

_"Oh Dean," tuts a familiar voice. "You know better than to think you'll ever escape me," _

_He can't be here. Sam killed him years ago. But he turns and Alastair's ugly form grins at him. _

_"We're going to have so much fun, aren't we Dean?" he says._

Dean wakes up in a cold sweat, throat raw from screaming. Cas is looking down at him with worry scrunching his brow. Sam stands next to him, looming over the bed like a giant.

He raises a shaky hand to his head and wipes away the sweat and the tears he's ashamed have formed in his eyes. Cas and Sam try to talk to him, but he remains stubbornly silent. There's nothing to talk about.

There's no use going back to sleep, so he goes out for some air despite how much rest his body desperately needs after spending so much time in the pit. He contemplates getting spectacularly wasted to forget everything but ultimately decides that the headache in the morning and the things he might spew while inebriated aren't worth it. Instead, he ends up in the Impala, calming himself down with some music. He stares at the ceiling, tries to blink away the afterimage of Hell that's burned onto the inside of his eyelids.

He jumps about a mile in the air when Cas knocks on the window, biting down hard on his lip to stifle the instinctual scream that threatens to escape. Cas gives him an apologetic look.

"Sorry for startling you, Dean," he says when Dean opens the door for him.

"It's fine, Cas," he replies, focusing on getting his breathing back under control.

"Sam is worried about you. And I am too,"

"I'm fine. Just a nightmare, that's all it was,"

Cas looks skeptical at that but says nothing. He reaches over and brushes a finger across Dean's lips, healing the wound there. Dean stares at Cas, wondering why the angel bothers fixing someone who's so broken.

"I'm sorry," Cas mumbles.

"For what?"

"Letting you go to Hell again. I should have saved you when I had the chance,"

"It was my fault, Cas. I was the one that picked up the first blade and didn't want to let it go,"

Cas shakes his head. "I keep telling you Dean. That wasn't you,"

Dean knows arguing with him would get him nowhere. Eventually he just sighs.

"Sure, whatever Cas," he mutters tiredly.

He lets his eyes close, resting his head against the back of the seat. He doesn't mean to fall asleep, but a few minutes later, Cas is waking him up again when he starts groaning in pain. Dean hates how weak he's become. He's gone up against the devil, archangels, and all sorts of nasty; been to hell and back, twice, but he can't shake the nightmares that plague his sleep. He hates seeing Sam and Cas look so worried over him. He's supposed to be the one taking care of them, not the other way around.

He rubs at his eyes again and decides that maybe he should just not sleep for a while. Which is easier said than done. Eventually, Cas makes a proposal.

"Would you like me to stay with you?"

"What? What are you talking about Cas?"

"You need rest Dean. And you can't get it if these nightmares continue. I can stay with you and watch over your dreams for you,"

Dean considers it. Thinks about saying no, that's weird Cas, don't spy on my head like that. But he's so tired and what Cas is suggesting actually sounds rather nice. A century or so in Hell without any kind of comforting, physical contact has his soul craving it, no matter who it's from. And he'd really rather it be Cas than Sam. Because that would just be even weirder and Sam would probably be all agreeable and have that puppy dog look on his face that Dean thinks is really annoying. So he nods and heads back to his room with Cas following.

He lays down on his bed, sighing at the comfort of memory foam. Even after a year, it remembers him and he smiles a bit at that. Got to enjoy the little things, he tells himself. Cas lays down next to him after remembering to at least take his coat and shoes off. He doesn't need to sleep anymore, but the habit is sort of ingrained in him from his time as a human.

Dean looks at him a little hesitantly. He hadn't thought that Cas meant he'd be _in_ the bed with him. He thought that Cas would just stand there creepily like he usually does. But when Cas asks if something's wrong, he just shakes his head and lays back down.

He can feel the angel's gaze boring into the side of his head and he turns to tell him to quit staring already. He's not expecting the angel to be so close, or to notice how stupidly blue his eyes are, shining like there's galaxies swirling inside them and maybe there are. His feeble plea for personal space dies on his lips and instead he just looks away, face heating for an inexplicable reason.

"Dean, you should sleep," Cas advises.

"I'm trying," he grumbles. "But it's kinda hard when you're staring at me like that,"

"My apologies,"

When Dean glances over again, Cas is staring at the ceiling this time, hands folded together on his chest.

"Cas," he starts.

The angel turns his head minutely, giving him his full attention. "Yes, Dean?"

"Um, are we gonna talk about this?" he asks nervously. They haven't yet, even though Sam keeps pressuring him to.

"This?"

"Us," he says, gesturing vaguely at the space between them.

"I was under the impression you were not willing to,"

Dean turns on his side, propping himself up on his elbow. "Yeah well, I'm not but it still has to be done. I need to know...where I stand with you,"

Cas turns to mirror Dean's pose. "I meant what I said back there. I love you, Dean," he says, blunt as ever.

"Yeah, I kinda got that Cas," he replies with a nervous laugh.

"You feel the same, yes? I thought that, when you kissed me back, you were returning my sentiment," Cas asks. He looks away and it's the first time Dean has ever seen Cas shy about anything. It's almost endearing in a way, how much his approval means to the angel.

"I don't know, Cas. It's...complicated. Things like love and happiness and stuff, I haven't felt those things in a long time. I guess it's going to take me some getting used to," he says without trying to come off as a 'woe is me' douchebag.

Cas only nods. "I understand," he says.

The angel turns away, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling again. He's unnaturally silent and if Dean didn't know better he'd think Cas fell asleep. But he does know better and he's known Cas long enough to know that he's trying not to show whatever emotions he's feeling. He sighs and snuggles in closer, wrapping an arm around him and resting his head over his chest.

"Sorry Cas. I love you too," he says, surprising Castiel and himself. He hadn't meant to say that, but there's no take backs and it's the truth, anyway. No use lying to Cas. He looks up at the angel, who looks down at him with a blinding smile. Dean hasn't seen that in a while.

"Sleep, Dean," Cas replies, cards his fingers through Dean's hair. The hunter hums in contentment and closes his eyes, finally letting sleep claim him while Cas' presence chases the nightmares away.


End file.
